


we could be anything

by followingthesky



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, also there is a little drinking and partying but it's mild, but then other stuff happens too, frail city boy hyungseob goes to the countryside to recuperate and meets country boy woojin, like university au stuff, still if you're easily triggered consider yourself warned, they're aged up by a year or so so it's not really underage anything, wasn't this the original requested jinseob au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followingthesky/pseuds/followingthesky
Summary: “Did you have a first love, dear?”Hyungseob blinks, taken aback at the question, and quickly moves to deny it.But even as he does, he starts as a wide, snaggletoothed smile flashes across his mind, images of impossibly blue skies and beaten dirt paths and fields that stretch as far as the eye could see. His words catch in his throat, and he hesitates. His gaze turns uncharacteristically soft.“I did,” he realises.





	we could be anything

**Author's Note:**

> So I'd been on the Jinseob ship literally before it even had a name, and back then i'd just been moping about at home because I hadn't thought that it'd actually ever become a thing, but it miraculously DID and I'm so so so happy THANK YOU ALL OF YOU FOR MAKING THIS POSSIBLE <333  
> So yeah! Here's my contribution to the hwanggubaekgu fandom with a prompt that I'm honestly surprised hadn't been used earlier, I mean wasn't the 'city boy hyungseob goes to the country to recuperate/country boy woojin meeting him' one of the very first famous fandom prompts? Idk but tbh I understand why it hasn't been written very much, it's a nightmare to write gah. Also please read the tags!
> 
> In any case a little side note! I know that our hyungseobbie isn't in wanna one, but let's all make it a collective effort to still keep this ship alive, yeah? PLEASE DON'T LET IT SINK i'm begging all of you T.T
> 
> ALSO! This fic has been translated into Vietnamese by the wonderful soskv17 ! Major kudos to you ^_^ if any of y'all would like to read it, it's available at https://circus17.wordpress.com/2017/07/03/trans-oneshot-chamseob-we-could-be-anything/

Hyungseob’s body had been weak as a child.

And while his ten-year-old self hadn’t quite known _why_ , what stood painfully obvious for him at the time was that he hadn’t been allowed to do very many things. While others his age would play sports in the park after school, he’d fall sick at the drop of a hat, forced into his room for weeks on end, knowing little else apart from homemade soups that were a little too bland and blankets that wrapped a little too warm and cartoons on the small television that ran a little too endlessly for his liking. He remembers countless birthday wishes spent on shooing these awful illnesses away, hands clasped and eyes squeezed shut as he would banish the demons with all his might, the evil demons that zapped his health and took his friends.

Though frail, he’d done his best to be a happy child, but when alone he had cried more often than not, whispering muffled apologies to his parents who seemed to have worry lines permanently etched onto tired faces.

 

Hyungseob remembers going to the hospital with his parents one day. It was not an uncommon occurrence in the least, but that trip had been particularly memorable to him. It was the day that, following his check ups, a lot of difficult, unrecognizable words had been exchanged between the adults, but the doctor had eyed him after and said something that his young self did understand.

 

“Going outdoors would be good for him, but the polluted air here is only aggravating his lungs,” the bespectacled man had revealed. He nodded to some scans on his computer screen. Hyungseob hadn’t understood then what the black and white pictures were, or why the adults were scrutinizing them so closely, but the doctor gestured to them as if they held the clues to some big mystery. “He will not recover if we continue like this.”

 

His mother had frowned then, and Hyungseob wanted nothing more than to smooth out the worry lines between her eyes. He pouted instead, taking one of her hands in his own. “Then,” she’d spoken hesitantly, as if already knowing the answer but having to ask it nonetheless. “What do you suggest we do?”

 

The doctor sighed heavily through his nose, pushing his glasses up with a finger. His dark eyes flickered back to the scans onscreen. “It would be best,” he had said slowly, eyes meeting Hyungseob’s own, “if Hyungseob spent some time in the countryside to recuperate.”

 

 

\---------------------------

 

  

 

It had been a month after when the young boy found himself boarding a train, en route from his home in Seoul to a relative’s house in Busan. Busan was a very long way away – Hyungseob hadn’t been aware that they’d even _had_ relatives there.

 

“Aunt Yumi is a lovely lady,” his mother was saying, voice gentle. “She is looking forward to having you.”

 

Hyungseob nods wordlessly. Truthfully, he was terrified of moving away from home, even if it was only temporary. But how could he say anything, when this was the only way for him to get better, when, after that consultation, he finally spotted the faintest glimmer of hope starting to shine in his parents’ eyes? He pursed his lips. No, he would never, not after all the hardships they’d been through for him, not after all the trouble his weak body caused his family.

 

 _You can do this_ , he told himself firmly. He nodded to himself.

 

He turned to the window. The scenery whizzed by, colours all blurring together.

 

\--

 

The first thing he noticed when he disembarked the train was the air. Hyungseob took a deep inhale, the deepest he’d even taken. The air in Busan was different. Fresh. Clean. His eyes had widened in awe, his mouth parting as he gulped in great lungfuls of the crisp air. His mother had watched him fondly as he’d turned to her in bewilderment.

The second had been the endlessly blue sky, unobstructed by the tall, grey buildings of the city, dotted by fluffy clouds and stretching as far as his eye could see.

And as they walked, the third had been the silence, the tranquility that washed over him, the ever present buzz of traffic and hurried voices gone as he swept his gaze across grassy fields and wooden houses and the occasional farmer pulling along a cart piled high with fresh crops.

 

It was so much to take in all at once, and Hyungseob was nearly overwhelmed by it all. That kind of place only ever existed within the cartoons that played on his television at home, farmers with straw hats and overalls and their many pets. Now that he thought about it, all the characters in those cartoons had been active and healthy. He concluded that it must have been the countryside life to thank for that, and the beginnings of hope fluttered in his chest.

 

 

 

Aunt Yumi was indeed a lovely person. She welcomed Hyungseob into her humble house with warm eyes and a warmer smile, and engulfed him in a hug that made him feel safe, though he didn’t recall meeting her before. She had an accent to her speech, tone a little rough around the edges and lilting in places he didn’t expect it to as she fussed over him, making sure he was all settled in and comfortable before showing him to his room.

 

It was a small room, sparsely furnished, though he could see that Aunt Yumi had done her best to make it as homely for him as possible, with stuffed toys on the bed and storybooks on the desk. He had smiled, heart full, as he started to unload his things.

 

And when he returned to the living room, his mother had ruffled his hair fondly before hugging him very tightly. “Just focus on getting better, Hyungseob-ah,” she’d murmured to him, and he’d smiled brightly for her sake. “We love you very much.”

 

He’d buried his face into her hair before pulling away. “I’ll get better soon,” he’d promised in reply, pumping a fist into the air. He smiled till his cheeks hurt. “You can count on me!”

 

\------------------------

 

 

Days came and went, and between reading and studying, Hyungseob hadn’t found much else to do without being a hindrance to Aunt Yumi, who had to go to work every day, leaving the young boy to do as he pleased. He knew that his main goal was to rest and recuperate, though he didn’t know how to speed up the process, nor did he know how to tell how much better he was. He certainly _felt_ better as soon as he arrived there, though he was understandably anxious at the fact that he had left what little of his life he had behind in Seoul. He wondered what his classmates back home must have thought about his sudden absence.

 

“Go out and wander the fields,” Aunt Yumi told him encouragingly, one night at dinner. Her cooking was delicious. “There are some children in the neighborhood, you could even make some friends! Now wouldn’t that be nice.”

 

Hyungseob lit up at the thought of going outdoors. He had almost forgotten. “It would,” he beamed.

 

 

 

Simply strolling along the dirt path was incredible in itself. Every which way he turned, fields overflowing with abundant crops would beckon to him, colours vibrant and pure. It felt like he was stepping into a storybook, the beauty of it all imprinting itself into his memory.

Straying from the path into the impossibly green grass, he hadn’t known what had come over him then, but he had broken into a run. The fragile boy ran and ran till his lungs burned, till his legs ached and finally gave out underneath himself, and he had lain down, breathing hard and staring with wide eyes into the vast blue sky. Hyungseob remembers letting out a breathy laugh. He had never felt so, so free.

 

\--------------------

 

 

It quickly became a habit, this exploration of the fields, this running and falling into the grass, the giddy exhilaration that came with it addictive to the boy who had never felt anything like it before.

 

On the fourth day, he was resting under the shade of a tree when a boy came up to him. Hyungseob had scrambled up from his lying position, eyes wide and nervous as he faced the other’s inquisitive gaze.

 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the other boy had stated, voice heavy with that distinct Busan accent and head cocked to the side curiously. He looked to be about the same age as Hyungseob himself, though this boy sported round, chubby cheeks and skin a shade darker than Hyungseob’s own. He carried a backpack on his shoulders, and looked to be about his height as the pale city boy rose to his feet.

 

Hyungseob tried for a friendly smile, heart beating fast in his chest with excitement. _A friend!_ “I’ve just moved here for a few months,” he replied, shifting on the balls of his feet. “I’m staying with my Aunt Yumi.”

 

The tanned boy’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Aunt Yumi? She’s my neighbor,” he revealed, and Hyungseob mouth formed a little o. “I didn’t know she had a nephew.”

 

“Me neither,” Hyungseob admitted somewhat sheepishly after a beat, and the other boy had looked at him, confused. “I was sent to live with her to recover, because the air here is good. Clean.” Feeling the need to explain himself, he continued. “I have a weak body, you see.”

 

“Oh,” the other boy said. His eyebrows furrowed with concern, tone suddenly hesitant. “Are you okay?”

 

Hyungseob put a hand to his chest. “I’ll be fine!” He said confidently, if only to alleviate the other boy’s concerns. “I feel better already, don’t worry.” He watched as the other nodded slowly, and he had beamed, smile splitting his face. “What’s your name?” He asked eagerly. He gestures to himself. “I’m Ahn Hyungseob. Nice to meet you!”

 

The other boy blinked for second, before a small smile made its way onto his face. When he smiled, Hyungseob noticed a sharp snaggletooth sitting at the top corner of his mouth.

“Park Woojin,” the boy said.

 

\------------------

 

 

Woojin was everything Hyungseob wasn’t. He was healthy and strong, dark skinned and limber, sharp edges and chubby cheeks and a heavy accent. And perhaps it was the thrill of having a friend, or simply how admirably _healthy_ the other was, but Hyungseob found himself drawn to Park Woojin like a moth to a flame.

 

He learned that Woojin was the same age as him, that he loved sports, and that he turned out to be extremely goofy once he got to know him better, cracking jokes and playing around in ways that Hyungseob had never seen his classmates back home do. There was always much laughter in the time he spent with the other boy, and Hyungseob would relish in Woojin’s company, would listen attentively to his folktales of the countryside, would watch him as he brought out games to play, would look over homework with the latter, and not once would Hyungseob’s smile leave his face.

 

In the weeks spent in each other’s company, Woojin had become his constant, a prince in this distant fairytale land, a steady presence that Hyungseob had found himself clinging to with all his heart.

 

\--

 

“Say, Woojin-ah,” Hyungseob found himself asking one evening, as they lay side by side under the darkening sky. Slowly, the stars started to appear, and Hyungseob lay riveted by the sheer wonder of it all.

 

He feels the other’s head turn to him at the question, long blades of grass tickling his ear as the other boy hums.

 

The city boy’s eyes drifted across the expanse of the sky, mapping out constellations in his head. “If you could be anything – anything at all, in the whole world, what would you want to be when you grow up?”

 

There was a pause, and a shift in which Woojin turned his head back to the sky. “I don’t know,” the other’s accented voice mused from beside him. “I’d probably stay here and be a farmer? I mean, all my family are farmers.”

 

Hyungseob had frowned at that. _That’s no fun, Woojin-ah_. He’d opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the latter.

 

“What about you?”

 

Hyungseob smiled, eyes crinkling up. “An explorer!” He announced with a conviction, a conviction he’d only ever discovered he was capable of recently. He lifted a hand to point at the stars, connecting the twinkling dots with an extended finger. “A space explorer. An astronaut!” He turned to Woojin excitedly. “Now wouldn’t that be cool!”

 

Woojin had chuckled at him, dark eyes amused and snaggletooth gleaming in the moonlight. “Don’t you have to be incredibly smart for that?”

 

He’d pouted then, indignant. “There’s nothing hard work won’t do!” He shoved Woojin playfully, and the Busan boy’s chuckles escalated into brash laughter. “I’ll get into the best astronaut university, and be the best astronaut the world has ever seen.”

 

The laughs die down, and a fond smile remains. “You’re ridiculous,” Woojin had said then, the ten-year-old boy always seeming to have possessed a certain wisdom beyond his years. Hyungseob turned back to face the boy, and was met by a soft flick to the forehead. “But okay. If it’s you, then you can do it.”

 

They’d been silent then, but the silence had been serene, comfortable in the way that only friends for years and years could have achieved. They lay as the wind washed over them, invisible hands caressing soft cheeks and sweeping strands of dark hair every which way, as the moon hung full in the sky, glowing upon them with a mother’s careful kindness.

 

Hyungseob, as he usually was, was first to break it. “Woojin-ah,” he says, voice breathless. When he gazed up into the abyss of the night, his eyes sparkled like the stars, full of possibility. He remembers his heart racing at the enchantment of it all, as he took the other boy’s hand into his own in a silent promise. “Don’t forget it. We could be anything.”

 

 

 

\-----------------------------

\-----------------------------

 

 

Looking back, Busan had been like a dream to him. A fleeting, beautiful dream.

 

And on occasion, when Hyungseob would look up from his pages and pages of coursework, out the window and into the light polluted sky of Seoul, he would remember soft green grass, hundreds and hundreds of shining diamonds scattered across a velvety sky, and a boy with dark skin and a charming smile.

 

 

\-----------------------------

\-----------------------------

 

 

 

Hyungseob works at an old folks’ home in the summer before university begins, not wishing to depend on his parents for money any more than necessary. It is definitely a bonus that he loves spending time with the elderly, loves the way their eyes glint with knowledge of generations past, hearing stories of lives lived and dreams fulfilled and wishes granted.

 

In exchange, Hyungseob has always possessed an incredible capacity for imagination, and he taps upon it here as he weaves together tales of magic, stories of eras forgotten and secrets untold with animated gestures and a sparkling gaze. His earnest voice carries through the air, bringing a childlike wonder back into the eyes of the elderly.

 

It is one day when he is speaking of a captured princess and her knight in shining armour falling in love when the question is asked.

 

 

“Did _you_ have a first love, dear?”

 

Hyungseob blinks, taken aback at the question, and quickly moves to deny it. Granted, he’d experienced his fair share of confessions throughout most of his school life, though he’d never acted upon any of them because they just hadn’t felt _right_. Hyungseob had quickly realized himself a hopeless romantic, after all, and he stays true to his values, no matter how much Euiwoong and the others from high school may tease him for it.

 

But even as he does, he starts as a wide, snaggletoothed smile flashes across his mind, images of impossibly blue skies and beaten dirt paths and fields that stretch as far as the eye could see. It had been a long time since he had last recalled those distant memories. Thinking about it now, that entire phase of his life hadn’t seemed real, especially after he’d returned home and was thrown back into things with the dizzying force of a bullet train, body healthy and incredible amounts of catching up to do with regards to school. His words catch in his throat, and he hesitates. His gaze turns uncharacteristically soft.

 

“I did,” the nineteen-year-old boy realises.

 

 

\--------------------

 

 

 

“Seoul University boasts a plethora of courses, all encompassing an extremely high level of teaching designed to stimulate the mind.”

 

Hyungseob shuffles along within the packed group of freshmen as their student guide rambles on, campus map clutched tightly in one hand and chin tilted up to admire the infrastructure of his new learning environment. A buzz of excitement is nearly tangible in the air as he darts his head about, barely listening to the introductory debrief as the group of them navigate the halls of the building.

 

“So how’d that summer job of yours treat you?” Euiwoong asks him in a low voice. The shorter male pushes his round glasses up his nose as he inspects his own map once more, no doubt committing names to hallways as they walk on.

 

Hyungseob lights up. “It was great!” he replies, shooting the other an earnest grin. “I’d asked to stay on part time, and they’d let me. The extra cash wouldn’t hurt too.”

 

“Nice,” his high school classmate nods, and they round a corner like a school of fish. “More free lunches for me.”

 

“Hey!” the paler of the two frowns. “No can do, man. I’m saving up.”

 

“For what?”

 

“A trip!”

 

Euiwoong’s thick eyebrows knit themselves together behind his Harry Potter glasses. “A trip,” he echoes.

 

Hyungseob nods, providing no further information on the matter. “Yep!”

 

He lets his friend digest this new information while they’re led into a new wing of the building. Reading the signs lining the walls, Hyungseob clamps a hand onto his friend’s shoulder, successfully cutting off the latter’s train of thought.

 

“This is it!” he hisses to his companion, and Euiwoong squints at him, as he tends to do quite often. “It’s my wing!”

                                                            

He quickly shushes the other as he opens his mouth to speak, jabbing a finger in the direction of the student guide, who has just started to speak.

 

“Our Astronomy course, in particular, has produced quite a number of notable graduates who have went on to contribute greatly in their area of expertise,” she is saying. “The professors we are privileged to have on board this course with us have made important breakthroughs in this field, and they are as excited as we are to impart their knowledge upon the next generation of talent here.”

 

“You sure landed a big one,” Euiwoong tells him under his breath, and Hyungseob visibly glows.

 

“Gotta dream big, Woong-ah,” he lectures, smug, and the marine biology major rolls his eyes.

 

 

\--

 

 

Hyungseob quickly realized that between the rigour of his coursework and having a part time job, it meant that he was left with no more time to spare for other commitments, something that he’d failed to think through before summer ended.

 

 

At the announcement of the club vacancies, Euiwoong had jumped for the broadcasting club at the first opportunity, which was hardly a surprise for the outspoken boy. And though he was extremely happy for his friend, Hyungseob had sat pouting to himself at his shortsightedness.

 

Because regrettably, this also meant that he had missed his one and only chance to join Seoul University’s dance society.

 

Hyungseob held a passion for dancing, it was one of the activities he’d picked up after his health saw immense improvement in his youth. It had been encouraged, even – his doctor deemed it a good way to get some regular exercise into the boy’s routine. It had been a new kind of thrill for him, the adrenaline rush provided by the activity a welcome change from the life he’d lived before.

And Seoul University’s dance society was extremely reputable – award-winning, even, one of the best in the entire country. Though Hyungseob doubted that his skills would be on par with theirs, just being part of that would have been amazing.

 

But between the dance society and his trip, Hyungseob knew that sacrifices had to be made. He sighs.

 

 

\-----

 

 

Hyungseob is dying. He is actually dying.

 

And so he voices as much. “I’m dying.”

 

Justin looks up from his own papers, face mildly concerned at his words. “Are you okay?”

 

The Astronomy major shakes his head. “This coursework is killing me,” he laments, lowering his laptop screen in favor of taking a sip of his iced latte. “I’m dying.”

 

Across the table, Euiwoong frowns. “You’re on the most rigorous course this university has to offer,” he reprimands. “What did you expect?”

 

He shrugs. “In my defense, I don’t really _expect_ , per se,” he tries for a nonchalant tone. He fails miserably, but confidence is half the battle, after all. “I just _do_ , y’know?”

 

Euiwoong looks far from impressed. “No, Hyungseob, I don’t know.”

 

Hyungseob sighs, sinking into his chair.

 

“Well, we’re only two months in,” another voice pipes up encouragingly. Next to him, Seunghyuk places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too late to change your major if you really can’t keep up.”

 

At that, Hyungseob jerks up. “No way!” He sounds scandalized, even to himself. And for good reason too. “I won’t lose to my coursework!”

Seunghyuk puts his hands up in surrender as he huffs.

 

“But for now, I’m taking a short break,” he announces, and the others nod placatingly.

 

 

The bell to the door of the café chimes, and Justin glances over Hyungseob’s shoulder. The exchange student lets out a low whistle. “Whoa, aren’t _they_ intimidating.”

 

Hyungseob whirls around in his seat just in time to see five figures walking to the counter of the small coffeeshop. As he watches them, he notices that every one of them is lean and toned, and that the backs of identical sweatshirts display the University’s logo along with English letters emblazoned underneath.

 

“Dance… society,” he reads slowly, before his eyes light up in realization. His mouth parts in awe.

 

He’d been meaning to drop by their practices, if only to spy on rehearsals, but his schedule hadn't even allowed for that. What luck that he’d see them here!

 

“Apparently there’s a crazy hierarchy in there,” Zhengting reveals, finally looking away from his laptop screen. Hyungseob turns to him for a second, almost having forgotten that he was there, and the sophomore nods to the unformed group. “I’ve got a friend in there – you know Eunki?” He pauses as the others shake their heads. “Well anyways, he told me that every day’s a battle in that club. Only eleven people actually get to compete, see. And there’re like, a hundred and one people in there or something. You don’t get seen unless you’re absolutely amazing.”

 

“Ugh, sounds harsh,” Euiwoong notes, crinkling his nose. “But I guess that’s why they win.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

Justin finishes his drink with a slurping sound from his straw. “Isn’t their lineup supposed to be really strong this year?” he asks. “I heard that they’d got some crazy freshmen joining the team.”

 

“Where are you guys even getting all this information?” Hyungseob pouts, turning back to his friends. “Why don’t I know anything?”

 

“Cuz you’re an Astronomy major,” Zhengting explains, palms up, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know what they say, head in the clouds and all that jazz.”

 

Hyungseob takes personal offence to that statement. “My area of study is outer space, not the _clouds_ , thank you very much,” he retorts indignantly.

 

“Pretty much the same thing.”

 

Hyungseob gasps. “It is not _nearly_ –“

 

“Okay, don’t fight, don’t fight,” Seunghyuk reaches over to push them back into their chairs. He turns to Hyungseob. “What he means is that you Astronomy guys are so hands on with your work, you don’t get much time to socialize, do you?”

 

Hyungseob reddens. “I have friends!”

 

This is where Seunghyuk raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? If that’s so, name one other person in this school, besides us, that you’re friends with.”

 

The accused boy glances about the café, making sure that no one is listening in. Because this conversation is making him sound pretty pathetic, and this is a campus café, and he’d rather not like to build this sort of reputation around himself.

To his horror, the dance society members are approaching, coffees in hand and walking speed ensuring that they’d easily be within hearing distance in the next few seconds.

 

 _Oh no_ , he thinks. _Anyone but them_. He racks his brain for names.

 

“Lee Gunhee,” he tries. “We partnered up in astrophysics?”

 

“Sharing a calculator in class once doesn’t count.”

 

Hyungseob groans into his palms. “I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned that!”

 

“Hyungseob, just face it,” Zhengting cuts in, and he hears the sound of sneakers squeaking on wood as someone stumbles behind him. With his luck, it’s probably one of the dance society guys. Faint exclamations of surprise reach his ears, and though he would usually be curious, this time he opts for wallowing in his self-pity instead. “We know your Astronomy is important, but university is all about meeting new people! Coming out of your shell! Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet the one.”

 

He hears Euiwoong sigh. “You won’t get anywhere with this guys, Hyeongseob’s like an immovable object when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

 

The freshman lifts his face from his hands just in time to see the sophomore shrug. “Well, you never know if you never try.”

 

\--

 

And that is how Hyungseob finds himself, two weeks later, sitting in the audience at the dance society’s first showcase of the year.

 

He knew that Zhengting had gone through great pains to get the coveted tickets for them, and he is elated to be here, but a small part of him can’t help but wonder what it would have been like if he was the one behind that curtain.

 

Nevertheless, the atmosphere sends adrenaline running through his veins, and the heavy bass of the music that plays even before it begins sends shivers up his spine. “This is incredible,” he says, and Zhengting laughs.

 

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, and Hyungseob beams.

 

 

The lights dim, and the performance begins.

 

As expected, the dancers are all incredible, flying about the stage with effortless precision, dynamic lines melting into fluid movements as they slip seamlessly in and out of dozens of intricate formations. They look nothing short of professionals, and Hyungseob sits enraptured as he lets the music thrum through his entire body.

 

It is on the third song when he sees him.

 

Hyungseob’s eyes are drawn to a dancer near the edge of the formation, movements sharp and sure. He dances in a controlled frenzy of steps, lightning quick but never melding sloppily into one another, all tied together with a natural ease of movement that Hyungseob himself could only ever hope to achieve.

The others are spectacular, but his eyes never stray from this dancer, even as he flits across the stage with the lithe grace of a panther, intensity burning in his dark eyes.

 

When he finally moves to the front row, where the lights shine upon their full bodies, Hyungseob raises his hands to his mouth to cheer for the mysterious dancer.

 

He takes in the tanned skin, slick with perspiration, the athletic yet lean build, the dark red hair that falls into fierce eyes, and when he shoots a confident smirk into the audience, a gleaming snaggletooth peeks out from behind his upper lip.

 

And Hyungseob’s heart stops in his chest, because it can’t possibly be.

 

 

\---

 

The Woojin of his memories was a little goofy, a little clumsy, chubby and soft and safe. He didn’t dance, didn’t attend a prestigous university, didn’t harbor any hopes of becoming anything more than a humble Busan farmer.

 

The boy onstage was chiseled, confident and suave. He made crowds go wild at the mere swish of a finger, commanding the stage as if he was born for it. He radiated power and attraction, and his smirk made Hyungseob’s heart speed up in his chest in a way that it never had before.

 

He brings his hands to grasp at his chest, clutching it painfully. _It’s not him_ , Hyungseob convinces himself, even as his heart swells with hope and threatens to burst. _It’s not. It can’t be._

 

\---

 

“I… I’ve got work tomorrow,” he tells them. It’s not exactly a lie – he really does have work. It’s just not till three in the afternoon.

 

“No Hyungseob, you promised,” Zhengting frowns. “You’ve never been to a college party! A few hours won’t hurt.”

 

“It won’t be horrifically big, either,” Seunghyuk says helpfully. “Just the dancers and a few friends. A small celebration.”

 

Hyungseob doesn’t want to tell them that that’s exactly the reason he wants to leave. _How much they would tease me if they knew_. He shudders at the thought.

 

“Don’t be a wet blanket,” Zhengting scolds lightly. “Eunki wants to meet you too.”

 

At the mention of disappointing a potential new friend, Hyungseob gives in. “Maybe…” he pushes the image of the red haired dancer out of his mind. Despite the exponential odds, maybe they wouldn’t run into each other. Not before he sorted his feelings out first. “Maybe just for a little while.”

 

 

\---

 

 

It is not a small celebration.

Apparently, more people have turned up than expected, and the party is somehow almost in full force by the time they arrive. Though the others shoot him apologetic glances, Hyungseob is secretly grateful.

 

He is dragged further by Zhengting into what he learns is Eunki’s massive apartment, and along the way, a plastic cup filled with something red is shoved into his hand from someone in the crowd. Hyungseob sniffs at it dubiously.

 

Hong Eunki is a nice person, all lanky limbs and warm smiles and Hyungseob can see why he’s friends with Zhengting, who is a ball of sunshine if not for his malfunctioning brain to mouth filter.

 

The atmosphere getting to him, Hyungseob starts to relax, and tentatively takes a sip of his drink. Perhaps tonight won't be so bad after all.

 

Of course, the very universe that he so painstakingly studies every day just loves to prove him wrong.

 

Because across the living room where Hyungseob stands, the front door opens and the showcase dancers file in, cleaned up and changed for the night. And the redheaded boy is there, surrounded by his clubmates, and out of his performance attire he looks almost normal, maybe even a little awkward as he stands between the other dancers, hand rubbing his neck and smile hesitant. He is nowhere near the confident persona he was onstage, and the stark difference is so painfully _endearing_ that Hyungseob feels his heart stutter in his chest.

 

And at the same time, this dancer across the room is so, so much like the boy he used to know and really, Hyungseob can’t deal with all this right now.

 

_Could he be?_

 

The boy’s head turns a fraction in his direction, and Hyungseob panics. He downs the drink in his hand, his second one of the night, and it burns at his throat. He escapes into another room.

 

 

 

Two drinks and one more close call later, Hyungseob has a warm buzz humming steadily in his system.

He is nowhere near drunk, but they say that alcohol does things to you. Gives you courage. Takes down your inhibitions. Makes you a little freer, a little happier. Hyungseob thinks he’s beginning to understand. He can’t remember when he’d last felt this free.

 

No, that’s a lie. He does.

 

 

Eunki has a really nice balcony, and Hyungseob makes his way to it, bumping into dancing bodies so far gone it’s kind of terrifying. The crisp autumn air that greets him is a nice change from the overcrowded heat of the apartment, and the city boy tilts his head to observe the sky. It’s something he does every day and every night through his telescope, but somehow, it’s different when he isn’t searching for anything.

He stays like that for a while, idle, the sky a familiar companion.

 

“You can’t see the stars in Seoul,” he whispers.

 

“No, you can’t,” a voice agrees behind him, and Hyungseob jerks, liquid sloshing about dangerously in his cup. He spins around, and his eyes widen.

 

The redheaded dancer is regarding him with an intense gaze, and Hyungseobs heart races so fast, it rivals the steady thumps of the bass that echo from the apartment.

 

The two of them stay like that for what seems like an eternity, the tension in the air electric.

 

 _You look too much like him_ , he wants to say. And he almost does, his brain to mouth filter definitely more than a little broken by now. He wonders why he doesn’t.

 

“I watched the performance,” he says instead. “You were amazing.”

 

“I’m glad you liked it,” the boy replies, not missing a beat. His voice is deep and husky, but there is an unmistakable Busan twang to it. Hyungseob freezes, and the excuses die in his mind even as he forms them.

 

Hyungseob feels tears pool at the corners of his eyes. Tears of what, he doesn’t even know. Perhaps he is too drunk to care. Whatever it is, the other must see it in his face, because he is stepping closer, face softening into a familiar expression that triggers memories from years ago.

“Have you always been a dancer?”

 

Woojin hums softly. “Not always.” He closes the distance between them, hand reaching out to brush away a stray tear from Hyungseob’s cheek. “But someone once told me that we could be anything.”

His hand comes down to rest on Hyungseob’s cheek, and it’s slightly rougher than the city boy remembers, slightly bigger, but no less warm. “That person changed my life, you know.”

 

The memories return at full force, and Hyungseob’s tears run freely down his cheeks. This can’t be real. This can’t be real, and yet the warmth of his touch, the glow in his eyes, the smell of the countryside that still somehow lingers on him even after months away from home, it’s all too intoxicating for it _not_ to be.

 

He buries his face into Woojin’s shoulder, and the other boy’s arms encircle him tightly. They stay like that for a long while, and Hyungseob feels safe, like nothing can harm him.

 

“You left without a trace,” the dancer says quietly, and Hyungseob shakes his head.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he confesses brokenly, voice muffled in the fabric of Woojin’s jacket. “It was so sudden…. I hadn’t known anyone would be coming for me that day.

 

“I missed you so much,” he’s rambling. “I have a part time job and everything, I was saving up, I – I was going to find you.”

 

He detaches himself from the other, looking into dark eyes with an instinctive need to clarify any doubt. “There was never anyone but you, Woojin-ah,” he promises. “Never.”

 

The snaggletoothed smile returns, the one he’d seen in his dreams. Though the face bearing it has lost its baby fat, has become more handsome, and Hyungseob’s breath catches in his throat. “I thought you’d forgotten me,” he admits, dark blush flaring across his tan cheeks. “So I came to find you first.”

 

Before Hyungseob can reply, Woojin brings their foreheads together, and his words die in his throat at their proximity. “Don’t leave me again, you hear me?”

 

Hyungseob laughs, a watery laugh that tinkles into the night. “How could I,” he smiles fondly. “I’d never. Never ever.”

 

And when Woojin slots warm lips onto his, Hyungseob’s heart feels like it might burst again, but he doesn’t mind one bit.

 

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Hyungseob enters the old folks’ home in time for his shift, and he entertains today by telling tales of the countryside, of fields overflowing with abundant crops and night skies decorated with thousands of stars.

But the love story he weaves in today is not about a princess and her knight, as he usually does. Today it is about an ordinary pair of boys, one perhaps a little frailer than most, and their beautiful, innocent love blossoming with the flowers that grew in the residents’ gardens.

 

They listen, captivated, as he speaks, descriptions more detailed than usual, the boy transporting them to a different realm as the images come to life in their minds. The story is simpler than most, but somehow all the more beautiful.

 

They shower him with applause and words of praise when he is done, and he flushes at the compliments. “I’m happy you liked it,” he beams.

 

“That was a wonderful story, boy,” one of the old men praises. “As they are every week, but I have to ask, where _does_ your inspiration come from?”

 

Hyungseob smiles. “I’ve been told that I have an imaginative mind.”

 

As he thinks of his next story, one of the elderly ladies points to the doorway. “Oh?” she asks. “And who may that be?”

 

Hyungseob turns his head, and said boy, half hidden from view, jumps at having been caught. He moves into view and bows to the room.

 

Hyungseob blinks, face reddening at the prospect of Woojin having heard his story. “That’s my boyfriend,” he says despite himself, before turning to the other male. “Don’t you have practice?” He asks, puzzled. He checks the clock on the wall. “I don’t end for another half hour.”

 

Woojin shrugs. “Practice left off early today,” he says in his distinct country accent, and the old lady nearest him raises her eyebrows, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

 

“I knew that story had to have come from somewhere,” she smiles, before raising her hands in a shooing motion. “Half an hour won’t hurt, you’ve done plenty today. Now off you both go, don’t leave him waiting.”

 

Hyungseob beams. “Then I’ll see you all next week,” he promises with a bow. “Thank you!”

 

A chorus of farewells jumble up in reply, and Woojin holds out his hand, which Hyungseob takes.

 

As they move to leave, he hears an exclamation. “Your prince charming’s a handsome one!” A cheeky voice calls. “I hope you’re treating him well!”

 

“Grandma!” Hyungseob cries out in embarrassment, and Woojin chuckles shyly, the back of his hand raised to cover his mouth.

 

But as the pair of them turn to wave goodbye to the old folk, fingers intertwined, the happy sparkle in their eyes say it all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was far from perfect, but if you made it till this point, thank you for reading <3


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